


When the Sky Meets the Ground

by GinjaNinja1205



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, First Meetings, Novelization, Writing Exercise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-25 02:37:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10754994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GinjaNinja1205/pseuds/GinjaNinja1205
Summary: This is a novelization of when Clarke and Lexa meet for the first time, from Clarke's POV.





	When the Sky Meets the Ground

**Author's Note:**

> Don't mind me, guys. I just figured this would make a good writing exercise. Criticism of the constructive variety is welcomed.

It really shouldn’t have surprised her, how young the Commander was. After all, she herself was practically still a child, and yet she was thrown head first into a leadership role. So it really shouldn’t have surprised her when she stepped into the tent to find a girl not much older than herself sat upon the throne. But it did, and she was grateful to whatever divine being there was that she was able to keep her expression schooled into an impassive mask and not let her surprise (or admittedly mild intimidation) show on her face.

 

She’s not sure exactly _what_ she was expecting when she walked into the Commander’s tent; the leader of the grounders, quite possibly the single most important person on the entire planet, and the one responsible for the three hundred people she was forced to kill to save her own people. If she really thought about it, maybe she was expecting the Commander to be an older man, because _of course_ someone who held that much power had to be a man. Perhaps she was expecting ugly scars and vicious tattoos and an overall imposing nature.

 

However, what she was most certainly _not_ expecting, was the woman she found herself standing before. While she had been half expecting the throne (because of course the Commander of the grounders has a fucking throne), she wasn’t expecting the borderline insouciant posture. The Commander seemed almost bored as she reclined in her throne, legs crossed, lazily twirling a dagger between long nimble fingers, not even sparing Clarke a glance as she was marched into the tent.

 

Her frantic heart stilled at the sight of her before taking off again, beating so hard she could feel it pounding away beneath her breast, and so loud that she’s surprised everyone else in the tent can’t hear it.  Confidence and authority rolled off of the grounder leader in waves, all but stopping the sky girl in her tracks as she couldn’t help but be in awe of the person in front of her. How Jaha and Kane _ever_ thought “Lexa” was anything other than this commanding presence was beyond her.

 

“ _You’re_ the one who burned three hundred of my warriors alive.” Those were the first words spoken, and the sound of the smooth, lightly husky voice nearly made the sky girl jump after having grown accustomed to the silence in the tent. The words weren’t posed as a question, they were a statement of fact. She spoke nonchalantly, making a casual observation as if the deaths of three hundred of her people didn’t bother her in the slightest, as if it was common occurrence. Almost as if the situation bored her.

 

However, when her eyes finally flitted up and their gazes locked, the sky girl saw the emotion that the Commander was trying to hide. Her breath caught in her throat, because while she had certainly been expecting the war paint (that was most definitely a grounder thing), she was in no way prepared for the piercing green eyes that were hiding underneath. Those eyes peered sharply at the sky girl, seeming to be able to see directly into her soul. And while the Commander herself may not be very expressive, her eyes most certainly were, and the fire in her penetrating gaze betrayed the impassiveness of her words.

 

The sky girl forced herself not to shrink away, forced herself to meet the Commander’s stare almost defiantly. While she kept her expression schooled on the outside, on the inside her heart was pounding so hard in her chest that she worried everyone in the tent would be able to hear it, and the mantra _do not show fear, do not show fear,_ repeated itself in her head over and over again. She knew that the Commander was trying for imposing, trying to intimidate her, and if she showed this woman any sign of weakness, there would be no chance for her people.

 

So she set her jaw, raised her chin, and gave her response, “ _You’re_ the one who sent them there to kill us.” Her tone was candid, matching the guileless tone the Commander had used. Her heart moved to her throat, worried for half a second that her flippant attitude was going to get her in trouble. But then she saw the almost infinitesimal raise of the Commander’s eyebrow, and if she didn’t know any better she would think that the woman looked vaguely impressed.

 

Nevertheless, the Commander straightened in her seat and stuck the tip of her blade into the arm of the throne, holding it in place with long fingers and tilting her head just slightly as she regarded the sky girl. “Do you have an answer for me… Clarke of the Sky People?”

 

Clarke didn’t even have time to be surprised that the Commander of the Grounders knew her name, because honestly she was too distracted by the way it sounded coming from her lips. She spoke it slowly, her tongue clicking over the ‘k’ in a way that was borderline sensual, in any other circumstance. Clarke blinked, momentarily caught off guard before she mentally shook herself and focused on the reason she was there.

 

Again she set her jaw and met the steady gaze of the Commander. “I’ve come to make you an offer.” She held her breath. This was a bold move, she knew, but it was the only chance she had of ensuring the safety of her people. If she couldn’t convince the Commander that they could be useful, then all of the Arkers would be dead by sunrise.

 

The Commander didn’t even try to suppress the arch of her brow this time as she glared at Clarke. “This is not a negotiation.” She stated evenly. Clarke’s attention was momentarily drawn to the woman at the Commander’s side, an older dark skinned woman who had been murderously glaring at Clarke the entire time she’d been in the tent.

 

“ _Teik ai frag em op en dison laik odon_.” Clarke definitely didn’t recognize the language, but judging by the look she was receiving from the woman and the tone she was using, she could guess that the words were not friendly. Despite the unsettling feeling in her gut, Clarke knew she had to appear in control of her emotions, so she barely spared the woman a glance before focusing her attention on the Commander, who held up a hand to quiet the woman beside her, her eyes never leaving Clarke’s. She could tell she was losing her attention, so she hurried to elaborate.

 

“I can help you beat the Mountain Men.” That definitely seemed to peak the Commanders interest. She straightened in her seat again and pulled the dagger into her lap, absentmindedly stroking the blade. She still appeared impassive, but Clarke could see the questions burning in her eyes.

 

“Go on,” She nodded for Clarke to continue.

 

“Hundreds of your people are trapped inside Mt. Weather. Kept in cages.” The Commander’s eyes hardened as Clarke spoke, the grip on the handle of her dagger tightening slightly. “Their blood is used as medicine.”

 

“How do you know this?” The Commander demanded, her glare burning through Clarke.

 

“Because I saw them. My people are prisoners there too. I was one of them.”

 

“Lies,” the woman beside the Commander snarled. Clarke’s eyes flitted over to her and narrowed, matching her glare. “No one escapes the Mountain.”

 

“I did.” Clarke affirms matter-of-factly before turning her gaze back to the Commander. “With Anya.” The Commander’s eyes widened slightly at the mention of the other grounder’s name, and she leaned forward slightly in her chair. Clarke knew she had to tread carefully. She wasn’t quite sure what a “second” was, but she gathered that it was important. She could only assume that Anya was someone special to the Commander. “We fought our way out together.”

 

“Another lie.” The woman at the Commander’s side growled. Clarke bit the inside of her cheek and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The Commander was still regarding her carefully. “Anya died in the fire. You killed her.” Clarke shook her head and without thinking, she reached into her jacket pocket. Everyone in the tent was suddenly on high alert, stepping closer to the blonde and hands moving to their weapons. Even the Commander tilted her head and tightened her grip on her dagger.

 

Clarke froze, her hand clasped around the braid in her pocket, as she eyed each person in the room in turn. Slowly, keeping her eyes fixed on the Commander, she pulled the braid from her pocket so all could see it. The Commander’s jaw noticeably clenched at the sight of it, and she raised her chin as she stared at the lock of dark auburn hair in Clarke’s hand. Clarke licked her lips and took a steadying breath as she held the braid in both hands.

 

“She told me you were her second.” Clarke spoke softly. The Commander visibly swallowed, her eyes flickering from Clarke’s to the braid and back again. “I’m sure she’d want you to have this.” Clarke carefully stepped towards the Commander, eyeing everyone in the room in turn again to communicate that she meant no harm.

 

Their fingers brushed as the Commander took the braid from Clarke’s extended hand, and Clarke just managed to suppress a shudder at the contact. Her skin tingled where the Commander’s touched her. The Commander’s face remained stoic as she studied the braid in her hand, but Clarke could see the pain in those green eyes, and it made her heart clench.

 

“We don’t know it’s hers.” The dark skinned woman spoke again.

 

“ _Shof op_ , Indra.” The Commander ordered, and the woman’s jaw clenched. Clarke took a few steps back to her former position as the Commander continued to stare at the braid in her hand, absentmindedly stroking it with her thumb. “Anya was my mentor.” She spoke, her voice quieter than it had previously been, softer. She looked back up at Clarke. “Before I was called to lead my people.” Clarke nodded in understanding, and the Commander moved to place the braid on the arm of her throne, her face turned to the side away from Clarke.

 

At this angle, it was easier to see the unshed tears that sat in green eyes, and when the Commander next spoke, Clarke’s heart clenched painfully once again at the pain that laced her voice. “Did she die well?” the Commander asked, not looking at Clarke. And as morally questionable as it was, and as guilty as it made Clarke feel, she was given her way in. _Appeal to their honor._ She couldn’t very well tell her that her mentor was shot in the back by her people without preamble. Still, she stuck as close to the truth as she could.

 

“Yes. By my side.” The Commander’s eyes found hers again. “Trying to get a message to you.”

 

“What message?”

 

“The only way to save our people is if we join together.” There was a scoff from Indra.

 

“Those who are about to die will say anything.”

 

“I’m still waiting for an offer, Clarke.” The Commander said flatly. Ignoring the way her heart fluttered at the sound of her name on the Commander’s lips again, Clarke took a steady breath. _Now comes the hard part._

 

“The Mountain Men are turning your people into Reapers.” The Commander’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. “I can turn them back.” She put as much confidence in those words as she could muster. Before the Commander could react, however, Indra interjected again.

 

“Impossible.” She spat. “ _Heda, ai ste breka daun teik ai frag em op!_ ”

 

“I’ve done it.” Clarke assured. “With Lincoln.” His name seemed to trigger something in Indra, as the woman took several steps towards Clarke as she spoke, growling out the words.

 

“That traitor,” she began, and the Commander’s eyes finally moved from Clarke to the other woman. “Is the reason-”

 

“Indra,” the Commander warned, but Indra ignored her, getting into Clarke’s personal space. Clarke forced herself not to flinch and to hold the other woman’s gaze evenly.

 

“-that my village was slaughtered by your people.”

 

“ _Em pleni!_ ” The Commander shouted, finally losing her composure and raising from her throne, glaring at the older woman. Indra continued to glare at Clarke for a moment, the sky girl holding her gaze defiantly, before huffing and storming to the other side of the tent and standing stiffly. Clarke’s eyes moved back to the Commander, and her breath caught in her throat again.

 

Now that the Commander was standing, Clarke was able to get a full look at her. She was wearing a complex set of armor, all straps and buckles, that seemed to have been custom made specifically for her. The red sash off her left shoulder hung elegantly at her side, and her hand rested on the hilt of the sword on her hip. Her chestnut hair was pulled back into intricate braids, and those green eyes were on fire beneath the war paint. Clarke had to admit, this girl was beautiful, in a fierce and somewhat terrifying way. The war paint made the brightness of her eyes stand out. It suited her, really.

 

Clarke’s heart thrummed even faster in her chest as the Commander approached her slowly, and she made an effort to stand taller. The Commander stopped only inches away, her piercing green gaze boring into Clarke. She was only an inch or two taller than Clarke, but still managed to tower over the blonde. The proximity of the Commander was almost enough to drive Clarke mad, and it certainly didn’t help when she caught a whiff of her scent; pine trees mixed with something sweet, like a fruit of some kind, and something else that was unique to her. Clarke’s head was spinning, but she forced herself to focus on the task at hand.

 

“You say you can turn Reapers back into men?” The Commander asked, regarding Clarke carefully. Clarke swallowed and nodded.

 

“Yes.” The Commander’s eyes narrowed.

 

“Then prove it.” She snarled. “Show me Lincoln.” Clarke’s jaw clenched and she swallowed again, but it was no use. Her throat had gone dry. She could only nod once more as she eyed the people in the tent warily before turning to exit, the Commander hot on her heels.

 

Her part was done. Now she could only pray to the gods that Abby had managed to save Lincoln. If not, then this wasn’t going to end well for her or the rest of the Sky People.


End file.
